It's a Wild World
by AGirlThatWritesAboutJunk
Summary: Sam and Dean have a nine-year-old sister. Dependent on them. Stubborn. Determined. She has all of the assets to be an amazing hunter. But Sam and Dean must keep her alive long enough to become a great.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

She had made the decision a while ago that she'd find her father herself. She had packed her bag and began to leave, her little nine-year-old feet nearing the door. It had been weeks. _Weeks._ And without her father, she was forced to spend her time at school instead of on hunts. Quite boring actually. The fifth grade was old news. Stick on tattoos and silly bands were boring compared to what she had done in her lifetime. Sure, sometimes, she stayed home but when she didn't-when she didn't it was spectacular.

Hannah Winchester needed to find her father.

But as she left, a foot stepped in front of her. A big one, one belonging to her older brother, Dean.

"Where are you going?" He had asked, looking pissed, pissed and maybe a tad bit hurt.

"Um…yeah, just smoking my nightly cigarette." Hannah thought up lies quickly unfortunately, she never thought them through. _Cigarettes, really?_

"You don't smoke."

"Not to your knowledge." Hannah seems so sure of herself, so confident. Her insides rattle as she steps back from Dean who blocks the doorway.

"Excuse me?"

"What? I didn't say anything. Did you hear something? I was just going to bed." Hannah turns to leave. No more confidence. She acts guilty.

Dean grabs her arm. She turns back.

"Yeah, didn't think so."

"What were you doing? Running?" Dean asks this with such anger, such pain. Hannah shivers.

"No."

"Really?"

"No."

Hannah was never great at lying. But she did frequently. To her brothers, her father, the police, classmates. She seemed to keep so many secrets. They tore her apart.

"Running. Why? You don't leave the room, you know that."

"Yep, been reminded a few times." She was so young and had already picked up sarcasm. Now, that she got it she tended to use it frequently along with her steady rhythm of cursing.

"Stop it with the attitude, please."

"I think _you_ have the attitude." Hannah pokes Dean in the chest.

He looks at her, cautioning her to step to back, to calm down.

"Sorry." She makes an awkward face.

"You were trying to find dad, weren't you?"

"What? No." So guilty, it was in her throat, her bones, she kept many secrets but none of them were her own. "Yeah. Yeah. That was-yeah."

"We are going to find him."

"That's what you said two weeks ago and then four days ago then yesterday. Still nothing. So, please, tell me a date, a time, and sure I'll go back to bed."

"You know I can't."

"Then I'm going. I'm his daughter, I'm not letting him slip away." Hannah is serious now, determined. She'd find him if no one else would.

"Hannah, go to bed, we can continue the search in the morning. I'll let you skip school."

"Gee, thanks but I don't need your shitty handouts. I wasn't going to school anyway."

"I got that." Despite his anger, he had humor in his voice, he knew what Hannah would propose, he knew he'd end up winning.

Hannah reaches for the door handle and begins to turn it, but Dean pulls it shut.

"No. Dad would want you to stay here." Dean has surpassed anger and gone straight to ruthlessness. Hannah wouldn't be leaving. Not with him still conscious. "With me." He finishes trying to sound desperate.

That's the way it worked with Sam. He would act disappointed. Act depressed. And it would be all he needed to get Sam back in his room.

But Sam was gone. For what? Four years now. No phone calls or text messages. Just blankness. Hannah was not like Sam at all. She never wanted to be like him and in many ways never would.

"Dad is gone. He can yell at me after."

"Or I can yell at you now."

"Oh, come on Dean. Why do this verbally. Fight me. Right her, right now, let's go." Hannah hops to her feet, bouncing on her toes. She was so small compared to the six-foot man but she'd try.

Dean laughed. He laughed at her and she wasn't angry because indeed it was humorous.

"Fine then." Dean watches Hannah circle him with her fists ready.

"Okay, I win then I can go. You win then I stay. Deal?"

Dean nods and gets into stance.

Hannah did not win.

But she ended up being fine. Dean wouldn't hurt her too bad. She was, after all, his sister. His little sister. She woke up the next morning with a slightly bruised rib and a sprained ankle. Nothing she couldn't handle.

Hannah was relieved when they both got into the Impala and left the hotel. She didn't know where they were going but she knew it was better than just sitting on her hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

After a three-day drive, they finally parked their car outside of a large building. Stanford. Sam's home. Hannah was not aware of this when they pulled in. In fact, she had been sleeping in the passenger's seat for a long while now, wrapped in a blanket. It _was_ one or two in morning.

She woke when the car stopped.

Dean watch as Hannah rubbed her eyes with her fists. She looked so small. Only four and a half feet. Dean smiled to himself.

"Dean," She sighed removing her hands from her eyes, "where are we?"

Dean opens the door and walks out, Hannah does the same.

"Hannah, stay in the car, I'll be back in a second."

"No thank you. I'm coming too." She walks to the side of Dean, yawns once. "I'm good."

"I don't think-" Dean starts remembering the night Sam had left. Remembering how Hannah cried. How she hated the yelling. How she begged him to stay. Then when he didn't, she threw his stuff out the window. Hannah was always stubborn.

"I'm coming," She says, almost a whisper. She steps in front of Dean and runs up the set of stairs before her.

They walk to the room in silence. Hannah picks the lock and Dean goes in first.

"Wait a second, okay?"

"What are we doing?"

"The usual. Illegal things. Thankfully, nobody here will press charges." Dean laughs inside himself.

Hannah stays in the doorway as Dean ventures into the main room. She watches as a fight takes place between a tall man and her brother.

Dean pins him like he did her the other night. The other night when she wished to go find her father.

"Whoa, easy, tiger."

"Dean?" The man says under his grip.

Dean laughs as Hannah realizes that she recognized his voice. His deep vice and his body frame. So long and skinny.

"You scared the crap out of me."

"That's 'cause you're out of practice," Dean smiles a bit.

The tall man flips Dean over and pins him.

"Or not. Get off of me."

Sam, Hannah now realizes, get's off of her brother. Sam. 22-year-old Sam. With his scraggily brown hair. She feels herself getting angry. Angry as Dean was at her for trying to leave. Angry like her father on the night Sam _did_ leave. Ran away. That's the difference between Hannah and Sam. Hannah ran toward something. He had run away.

She walks into the room. Pissed. Her body on fire. She feels like she bathed in boiling water.

"Sam?"

The two brothers look over to her.

"Hannah, I told you to stay back," Dean walks over to her and begins to reach his hand to her shoulder.

"Fuck off Dean." The words slipped out of her quickly. And they felt good. They felt warm sliding off her tongue.

"Excuse me? Hannah that's-" Dean didn't finish because Hannah cut him off. He would never get the last word especially not tonight.

"It. I know. But you've been saying that for the past two weeks. And it never was "it"." She bypasses Dean and heads toward Sam who stands motionless in the room.

"Hannah Winchester!" Dean sounds so much like her father. So much like the man who is missing. The one who should be their priority, not this giganto.

She doesn't hesitate as she strikes Sam in the cheekbone. Hard. She had to reach up to do so but it had to be done. Blood had rushed to the spot when he looked back up.

"Jackass." She turns to leave. To go. She didn't want to look at him any longer, he was meaningless. Pointless. To her.

But she bumps into a tall woman. One older than her with tangled blonde hair like herself.

She stumbles back a bit.

"Jess, hey." Sam seems to sneak this out.

Dean grabs Hannah before she falls into the glass table. "Watch it," He says under his breath but loud enough for the words to reach Hannah's ear.

"I'm fine." Hannah breaks away from Dean's grasp.

"Dean, Hannah, this is my girlfriend Jessica."

Hannah did not want to be introduced.

"Wait, your brother Dean?"

"Hey." Dean's voice sounds gruff in Hannah's head.

She didn't mind not being talked about to this woman. Not her. And she certainly didn't mind if Sam would forget her completely.

"Who is this?" Jessica gestures to Hannah.

"Oh, you haven't heard about me? I'm the cousin Sam sold into the sex trade to pay the rent. Prostitution wasn't the best option for me."

"Hannah!" Dean turns to Hannah.

"Did I make you guys feel awkward? I'm sorry. I was just leaving anyway. My father is missing. Better find him." Hannah begins to leave. She truly wanted to leave. To go.

Dean grabs Hannah's arm. "No."

"Jess, this is my sister, Hannah."

"Oh, yeah, how cute, how old are you?"

"Old enough to beat the shit out of you."

Dean tightens his grip on her arm.

"I mean, I'm nine."

Hannah smiles falsely.

"Wait, dad is missing?" Sam finally tunes in. Finally realizes what's happening.

"Dip shit." Hannah mutters under her breath. She'll be beat for this later, but she doesn't care.

"Yeah, on a hunting trip."

"Jess will you excuse us for a second?" Sam begins to walk to the staircase.

"Of course." The woman wanders back into the room she had come from.

They, all three, walk down the stairs together.

"No!"

"Thank you. Finally, something we agree on."

"Hannah, you can't be in this."

"Why not?" Hannah is beyond pissed. Beyond everything. She wants to be alone, to be alone looking for her father. John was a deadbeat but in little ways he meant something. She couldn't say that for Sam. "I'm a part of this."

"No, you're not."

"Yes. Yes I am."

"I can't go with you guys, I have an interview on Monday." Sam has interjected.

"I can't do this alone." Dean looks up at his younger brother.

"I'm right here."

"Only for a day or two to follow the lead. You'll make it back in time for your interview."

Hannah has gotten quiet now along with everything else. Finally, she breaks the silence.

"Sam? What was so wrong with us?"

"Hannah, there was nothing wrong with you guys. I love you."

"Then why not answer the phone?" Hannah is sad now, her face torn.

"I'm sorry-I didn't-"

"I'm gonna head back to the car."

Dean has put his trust in her and allows her to leave. To walk away. She curls up in the backseat and sleeps.

"How's it been? Just the two of you?" Sam asks, walking towards the car with Dean. He had agreed to come after much persuasion.

"It's been alright. She's grown. Very stubborn." Dean looks in at Hannah in the back.

"I see that. You think she'll forgive me?"

"She has to. You guys are family."

Dean slips into the driver's seat and Sam into the passenger side. Sam watches Hannah sleep until she wakes in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Hannah is woken by the car stopping. A gas station. She lifts herself up and rubs the sleep from her eyes with her balled fists. Sam sits up front, looking over Dean's cassette tape collection.

"Dude you've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean looks up from pumping gas into the Impala. He makes eye contact with Hannah and changes the conversation.

"Hey, there, kid. Sleep good?"

Hannah nods still rubbing her eyes.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Hannah gets up to get out of the car but Dean keeps the seat up.

"Wait until the next stop, Hanny."

"Why?"

"That guy freaks me out." Dean nods to a man by the ice machine. He stares at them.

"But I have to pee."

"Me too." Sam speaks.

Hannah looks at him, partially confused.

"I can take her."

Hannah didn't like the idea all that much but she did not want to piss all over the car. Dean would probably kick her out.

"Fine," Dean says, pulling out the gas pump.

Sam and Hannah walk into the store in silence.

"I'm sorry." Sam finally speaks.

Hannah doesn't say anything.

"I didn't mean to run out on you guys. Dad was just-I had to- dad was-"

"An ass." Hannah finishes his sentence. "He was. He _is._ And to be honest I wouldn't have minded you taking me."

Sam looks at his sister.

"I thought you wanted the hunter life."

"Well, I think it would be nice to hang around some normal people for once. You know, make some friends." Hannah isn't sure of her words but what she says is true. She did in fact want to run away to him several times. She didn't like her father. She liked the idea of him being hers. And Dean, well, she loved Dean, but they fought. They fought more than Sam and she did. She never listened. Not to orders. Sam didn't give orders.

"Exactly."

"But I knew I couldn't run away. I needed every part. We might have been miserable Sam. But we were miserable together." Hannah laughs. "Wishful thinking, I guess."

Sam turns to her. "I wish I stayed and was miserable with you."

They both laugh.

"Forgive me?"

Hannah nods, and she feels herself getting lighter.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

"Still running credit card scams?" Sam knows the answer. He knows the word, _yes_ will slide from Dean's lips but he asks anyway.

"Yeah."

Hannah stands outside the car. Still at a gas station. She had previously slipped flip flops on and was know standing beside the drier's door. Sam leans against the car near them.

Hannah looks down. Her ankle burns from the passed night, it's swollen and turning purple. Dean probably didn't notice he had hurt her that bad. She wants to cover it up. She wants to hide it. She might not be able to participate in the hunt if she didn't. Hannah thinks for a second but sure enough Sam's voice cuts through.

"Hannah? What's wrong with your ankle?"

She doesn't look up. She can't. Hannah was fine. She was okay, her ankle just didn't reflect that. Her mind ran with ideas, what to say. To respond. But Hannah was stubborn. She was fine.

And so, she ran.

It seemed logical in the moment of things. Running shows it doesn't hurt. That means she can go on the hunt.

But in fact, it did hurt. She felt herself breaking. She felt her bones on fire.

"Hannah!" Dean yells, getting up from the driver's seat.

She has gone relatively far now. All the way to the side of the building. Woods are beyond that. But stopping feels wrong. Feels like turning into her pain.

Hannah just felt like running.

"What the hell! Hannah!" Dean and Sam's screams faintly reach her ears, but she ignores them.

They follow her now, running themselves. But she doesn't care. Her ankle burns, and she is freezing under the breeze with only shorts and t-shirt.

Then she stops. It seems right then and there surrounded by the woods, she stops.

Hannah thinks of her stupidity as she touches her swollen ankle.

 _Cover it up_ , was her first thought.

And her second one.

In reality, it was the only thought she had.

Hannah took med from the ground and smoothed over herself.

She was tired and idiotic. But she wanted to be cleansed. To be better. To hate less.

Dean and Sam found her with her ankle smeared with mud and her arms shaking with frigidity.

They helped her back to the car.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asks, his arm around her shoulder.

"I just felt like running." She talks plainly and mechanically, still trying to decipher what she had done herself.

"You can't just go. That's-it's not safe."

"Dean, we're at a gas station, there aren't any monsters, they aren't everywhere," Hannah feels herself smiling despite her pain.

"And what's wrong with the leg?" Sam cuts in more interested in what began her running than why she did so.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Even to herself she sounds untruthful. Untrustworthy. Her brothers cared. She knew this, but she wasn't a child anymore, she knew when she was hurt. Or she knew when she didn't want to be hurt.

"No, you're not." Sam shakes his head as they reach the car.

"I am!" Hannah opens the car door and climbs into the backseat.

Sam follows her, squishing himself along with her. His head hits the ceiling.

"Let me see."

"Why? I'm fine."

"Let me see," Sam repeats, he sounds angry. He sounds ordering. Hannah remembers how she hated ordering. How she hated yelling and being pissed off.

"No."

Dean lifts the passenger seat up.

"Hannah, you are young. Younger than us-"

"Thanks for reminding me."

"Stop it with the sarcasm." Another order from Sam.

"My point is, since dad is gone, I am now dad so would you say no-"

"Yes. I would! Dad is a jackass if you hadn't noticed."

"Okay, you're done. Get out of the car."

Hannah scooches out, her legs trembling. She was scared.

"I'm nine, Dean. I'm old now. I've been on hunts. You can't spank me anymore."

"Hannah, you aren't old. I love you but you're a kid. A child. Now, when we get done, show us your ankle. We need to access the damage."

Hannah doesn't cry. She stays still and afterwards her butt feels sore. Feels broken.

She shows them her ankle and they wrap it up, scolding her for not telling the sooner.

Hannah curls up in the backseat and sleeps, she wasn't tired, and she didn't dream. IT was emotionless and purely blank.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Hannah was stubborn. Like said before. But it was entirely crazy if you'd ever meet her. She'd have the last word. And she fumed with anger and spite as they pulled up to that bride. The bridge where a man was killed.

Dean and Sam claimed to be federal marshals.

But they'd get basically nowhere with the cops. Hannah led herself out of the car and onto the other side of the bridge where she made her way to the crime scene. She was smooth. Stealthy, she felt it. Even with her limp leg.

Hannah pulls out an EVP monitor and it buzzes. Fast and quick. A ghost. It had to be. Her mind raced as she pulled herself out of the car.

She makes her way back to the car with small steps. Sam and Dean are already there. Already looking at her.

Hannah climbs into the back.

"It's a ghost."

"Why is that?" Dean would always question her. She'd never be "one of them" to him. It was the split that separated them.

Hannah just wanted to be included.

"EVP." She holds out the monitor, her hand partially shaking.

"A lot?" Sam doesn't mind how she got the information. He doesn't car that she was a tiny bit younger, she was a part of it all.

"All the way."

Hannah doesn't like thinking of herself as the girl in the background.

"Good." Sam holds the monitor in front of him as if to examine it. He wouldn't find anything. IT was made with an old car antenna from Bobby's and a load of weird junk.

"You shouldn't leave the car."

"I should if I can get results."

"We could have been made." Dean speaks as if he'd never been in jail before. As if he had never done a thing wrong. He loved her. But the anger between them was still radiating.

"But we weren't."

"You need to be safer."

"Yeah, but this ghost isn't going after people like me. Males. Do I look male to you? If anything, I'm the best person to be working this case."

"Hannah, when we get back to the motel eat some food and go to bed."

"I'm not-"

"Please." Dean winks at her through the rearview window.

Hannah wanted to be liked.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

The two brothers sat at the table and ate.

Hannah slept in the next room.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?" Sam placed his food back on the paper plate and brought it to the trash.

"Do you think that this is right?"

"You have to be a little more specific." Hannah wasn't especially on Sam's mind. He loved her. Worried about her. But there were other things. Jess. College. The interview.

"I mean Hanny. Do you think that keeping her hunting is okay? I mean, I could drop her-"

"Don't do that." Sam breathes, inhaling before speaking again. "Hannah isn't the person to leave out. She'd run away or get herself killed."

"Killed," Dean whispers aloud. Just loud enough to reach Sam's ears and they both turn to Hannah.

To her body, motionless. Quiet. They like the thought of her life being quiet.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

It was the first time they heard her laugh in weeks.

For Sam it was years.

They got up for breakfast in the morning. Only getting five or so hours of sleep was plenty. For them.

Hannah walked over to Dean. Her hair laid flat along her back. It was light brown and relatively curly.

"Can I have the keys to the car?" She asked, not making eye contact but instead admiring the work they had done, now plastered on the walls.

"Why?"

"I left my other bag in it." She has allowed herself to be calm again. Forgive again. Despite everything, she likes being light. The kind of light she had felt when she let go of the past with Sam.

"Fine." Dean tosses her the keys. "But don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"I'm getting a bag Dean not driving it to New York."

Dean nods, accepting that, rather than nothing. He has become okay with sarcasm.

Hannah feels short, standing next to the two of them. She was just barely four feet and skinny. Her face was tanner than Dean's. But took little pride in her appearance. It didn't matter much to her. These days nothing seemed to matter.

She walks out the door with the keys and pops the trunk.

It's raining. Hard. The kind of drops that are heavy and large, covering most of her clothes. When her clothes are pressed against her like that, she not only seems smaller but there is a certain tilt in her back. She's had scoliosis for a while now, since she was seven. And at the time Dean gave up his and Sam's bed for her.

She stopped taking his treatment after a month. Hannah didn't like to be prioritized.

Opens the trunk, water rushing down her hands. Her legs.

She grabs her bag and goes for the curb, slips. So fast. So quiet. Onto the pavement.

Dean and Sam are out of the hotel quickly, the door closing softly behind them.

Sam kneels down, looking at the gash on her knee that oozes blood. Which washes away with the water.

Dean minds the rain, he holds up his jacket above his head as he leans down.

Hannah doesn't cry.

When she was little, she'd run along the streets all the time. There were scars along her knees to prove it. This was just opening a reoccurring wound.

"Are you okay?" Sam might have asked her this several times now. But she had been focused on something else.

Focused on the closed door. The closed hotel room door. The one they required a key to get into. The key in which sat on the nearest bed to the door.

"Do you happen to have a spare?" She disregards Sam's helpfulness and laughs. Laughs quietly at first as her brothers try to decipher what she had said.

"What do you mean? A spare?" Dean is now interested, sill keeping his jacket above his head as if it'd do any good now.

She spits out the words in the middle of laughs. "A spare key for the door."

The two turn to their hotel room.

"Shit." Sam says, pure and simple.

Hannah hadn't heard him curse in a while. She's laughing hard now as the realization finally hits Dean.

Dean. Who uncovers his jacket and walks to the door, yanking it a few times.

He's frantic which makes Hannah laugh harder. She stands up from the ground forgetting about the cut which pours blood into the street.

Sam is laughing too.

"What the fuck kind of hotel doesn't have an overhang."

Dean stomps from the sidewalk.

They kick water at him and then they all give in.

Into the rain. Into the feuds. Into the anger that they've held onto. Let themselves become siblings again. Become the kind of siblings that they'd always wanted to be. Normal.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

With much persuasion, Sam had been able to get Hannah to let him patch up her knee. After which, they continued the investigation.

They did research. A lot of research.

On the woman in white mostly. That's what they figured she was.

They had driven to the library and were there for quite a while, looking into archives and files that "weren't accessible".

Hannah had zoned out about forty-five minutes in and went outside. Sat on the bench.

The rain had cleared up and now it was hot. She peeled off the patch on her knee revealing a gaping wound. She touched it softly and when no blood stuck to her finger she threw the bandage away.

It'd only been on for a while, but it had been bothering her.

There was silence for the first time in a long time. And she began thinking of her mother.

You see, Hannah didn't belong to Mary. She belonged to Katherine. Both she had little or no time of knowing.

She had heard the story a million times.

John told it to her as a bed time story when she was little.

" _Your mother. She was beautiful, and we spent weeks together. I was happy which doesn't come a lot. But then I left, not knowing you were there, of course. She called me two and a half years later. And you know I was fumbling with my words. So scared. I loved her. It was the first time since Mary, eleven years ago. She told me about you and I was shocked. It was- It felt unreal. I came to her and held you. I loved you. So much. But I couldn't keep you. I didn't want you to live this life. But in the morning your mother was gone. We searched but she didn't want to be found."_

It was a lovely story up until the part where Hannah was unwanted. By a mother. By someone who was supposed to love you. She wanted that. And then there were Mary stories. Where she was amazing and cared for her children.

Hannah, more than anything wanted that.

She thought of this a lot.

All of the time.

The desire to get away. From her.

Was she that repulsive?

Hannah often thought on the word "repulsive". She liked the way it rolled from her tongue. For so long, she liked how it was related to her. Hannah was repulsive. She was proud of herself for figuring it out. She was proud of herself for knowing.

"What are you doing out here?" Dean pokes his head outside.

Hannah smiles and gathers her jacket. Ripped from her thoughts.

"Coming."

She stands and saunters over, in front of him.

"Hey, what happened to your bandage?" Dean glances down at Hannah's knee.

"What? What bandage?" Hannah begins running down the hall and into the library where she could hide between the shelves.

Dean wouldn't have the strength or want to catch her.

There it was again. Unwanted. Repulsive.

Hannah crouched behind a stack of books and touched her cut again. She looked up at the big ceiling. How small she was. How little compared o this large world.

How small things are in perspective.

She squeezed her cut until it bled again.

Chapter 9:

The three siblings went to the bridge that night. Standing. Looking over the railing. Hannah parted from her brothers mostly. They argued about their mother and she must separate herself.

Mary was not her mother.

She looked over the edge as it called to her.

Hannah remembers when she was seven. Sam was still at home if only for a few more months and Dean was twenty-two.

"Sammy!" Dean yells walking back into the hotel room to grab his younger brother. "We have to go. Dad'll be waiting."

Sam grabs his duffel and brings it to the car. When the two arrive at the Impala, Hannah isn't there.

Dean is panics quickly. The kind of panic that rattles you until you can't help but scream. Dad would bust him for losing the seven-year-old. She is helpless. Then.

But four years forward and she wouldn't be. _That_ Hannah knows this.

"What's wrong?" Sam asks, seating himself in the passenger's seat.

"I can't find Hannah." Dean pushes himself off the car and begins walking to the door. She was just here. Just five feet away. "Hannah!" He yells this into the hotel. "Hurry up!"

No answer.

"I swear, I just saw her go inside." Sam pulls himself from the car and jogs inside.

They look for minutes but still, she is nowhere.

The two brothers wander back to the Impala, still calling her name.

Dean gets on the phone, phones his father. John.

He was scared. Scared about his reaction and about his sister.

The one who is missing, if only for ten or so minutes. They'd looked everywhere.

She just was gone.

The line buzzes with anxiety.

Then Sam looks up. Up into the air where Hannah stands on the roof of the hotel. It was one story and cheap but still. Must be twelve feet up.

"Hannah?" Sam calls from the ground.

Dean crooks his head.

The child who had been looking forward looks down. Her eyes meet with her brothers.

"Hannah! What are you doing up there?" Dean gasps from the ground.

Sam runs into the house and out the back, looking for how she got up.

The child doesn't answer. She just stares ahead.

"Back away from the edge, Hanny. We're coming. Don't be scared."

At the expense of her ego, Hannah looks down at Dean. "I'm not scared."

She steps closer to the edge and what seems like minutes happens in seconds as she continues her walk.

Dean screams from the ground as she bares inches away. He stands underneath, hoping to catch her. But what if he didn't? And she fell, far down. Onto the pavement.

Or what if she fell the wrong way? Broke her neck even if landing in Dean's arms?

Then Sam grabs her. Quick. So quick. He snags her and brings her down. She hasn't spoken, nor does she want to.

"What the hell, Hannah? What were you doing up there?" Dean questions her. He was scared. So scared.

"I like it here. I have friends."

"Well, you won't be anywhere if you die."

"I'll be everywhere if I die."

Something like that coming from a seven-year-old sets the brothers back on their heels.

She'd rather die than go with them.

Hannah slips into the backseat of the Impala, waiting for the engine to start and for them to go far away again. Far away to an unknown place.

It feels the same way now. So close to death. To standing up high on a bridge and falling. It could all be over. This is how Constance felt. How she knew that everything was behind her. Her children. Her family.

Hannah remembers the many times she has moved away. The many times she's been looked over. She doesn't want that anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Then the beams caught her, blinding Hannah momentarily. Sam and Dean stopped their bickering, letting themselves freeze in front of the light.

"Hannah, run!" Sam screamed as the two of them took off on their own.

The car begins moving. The Impala holding so many memories, rummaging forward on the bride.

Hannah stood motionless in the middle of the road.

She was eleven. Eleven. There was little time, but thoughts raced through her head.

 _You are a Winchester. A sister. A daughter. A badass. A hunter. You aren't suicidal. Dismiss it. Let it go. Let it go._

Hannah bursts from the road and to the side of the bride where she climbs over the railing and holds on. Doesn't dare drop.

Dean does but into the water.

The car stops, and everything is over.

"You okay?" Sam nods to Hannah as she climbs over the railing.

"Yeah."

"Dean! You okay?" Sam calls to Dean now pulling himself from the water.

He gives them an a-ok sign. Hannah stifles a laugh.

They go "home" and Dean takes a shower. Hannah is still lost in the crevices of her mind. She thinks of taking a shower herself. Letting her body get cleansed. Her brothers would never know what she was thinking on that bridge that night.

She hated the thought of a forever secret. Something nobody else would know. Something that would die with her.

"Hannah?" Sam's voice seems distant and unreal.

"Me?" She points to herself, not totally comprehending his words.

"No, the other Hannah. Yes, you!"

"What?" She looks up at him, realizing that she was sitting cross legged on the ground, playing with her butterfly knife, weaving it in between her fingers.

"What is this?" Sam holds up an empty beer bottle.

Hannah stops her butterfly knife. "An empty beer bottle."

She wasn't wrong, but Sam hadn't been looking for sarcasm.

"Yes. I know. What is it doing by your bed?"

"Because I didn't want to walk to the trash can."

"Usually people lie."

Hannah's mouth speaks faster than her mind, but they agree with each other. "Yeah, well, if you already are convinced I did it then there is no changing your mind."

"So, you did down a beer bottle."

"Yeah, I thought you picked that up. Oh, maybe college isn't doing much for you Sam."

"Very funny but Dean isn't going to think so, you know how he hates you drinking."

"How would you know, you aren't around."

"I know a lot." Sam remembers the times he had snuck alcohol in hotel rooms. Letting the warmth fill him up, it did wonders. Beer bottles did what his older brother could not.

Hannah thinks about Sam's statement and decides it's truth value. "Do you know that I haven't been to school in three months? Three. Probably going to fail the sixth grade which is okay, you know? Dean doesn't care so I don't care."

Sam scoffs.

Hannah disregards Sam and continues, "He picks and chooses. Doesn't like me drinking but is okay with me failing. I tend to think of myself as the one who is going to grow up and realize that she wasted her life. Why bother now, I'll be dead before I'm twenty anyway."

"We would never let you die, Hannah."

"Yeah? Cause' I don't recall you being here. It might just be me, but I don't think you can save a person from a thousand miles away."

"I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean physically? Oh, you gonna save me with your mind? With your love? Everything we do is purely physical."

"I agree. But you haven't seen enough to be drinking yet."

"Sam, you were the golden boy." She says this slow, slow enough for him to understand. "You were the one to protect."

"Dean protects you."

"It's not the same. Dean yells at me like I'm six. And I yell back. I never didn't know about monsters. From the time I learned to read, I was doing research. I'm a resource, not a person. Definitely not the golden child." Hannah goes on her knees in front of the fridge."

"I thought-" Sam starts, never remembering Hannah as a child. Just another Winchester. Never tucking her in and reading her story books. Tucking her in and asking if she had a blade under her pillow.

"I'm sure you did." Hannah reaches into the mini fridge and pulls a beer from one of four six packs. "But it's not true, so, if I want to drink," Hannah uncaps the bottle and takes a sip, "remember those days of training. Training I started way before you did. Remember that whe you left, we lost the golden boy. John went mental, not that he showed it, and Dean, he was just depressed. All the time. I saw him laugh for the first time two days ago, first time in seven months. Really laugh."

Hannah takes another sip.

Sam thinks about all of this then leans down and grabs a beer from the fridge. He thinks of his childhood and of Hannah. Of it all. She was right, she'd never be a kid.

"Chug challenge?" Sam smiles down at his sister.

Hannah rises and nods. She looks happy. Happy.

Sam uncaps the beer. And they race, chugging the liquid down quick. Hannah feels like puking but doesn't dare, that'd be losing. Their beers are finished quickly.

"I win!" Sam yells, slamming the bottle onto the counter, his eyes need readjusting.

Hannah turns to him, slowly, steadily. She'd been drunk a few times, a good amount and she'd be drunk again.

"Rematch."

Sam, feeling a bit buzzed himself, reaches into the fridge or another. He glances at the shower.

They do it again.

And Sam feels young. Like he was sixteen. The kind of sixteen that didn't melt silver into bullets and run miles before school so that the following night, he could outrun the next monster they hunted. It was freedom. Hannah felt it too, pulsing through her.

Older brothers are never fathers.

But hers were. And in that second, she felt like an equal. Like a fellow child under one law. Like a sister. A real one.

The shower stops.

They had finished downing their last bottles and hide them. One underneath the bed, another in the trash. Another under the bed and out of pure fear, Sam tucks one in the back of his pants.

Hannah laughs hard. It could just be the alcohol.

"Shhhh." Sam presses a finger to his lips as they cautiously await Dean's arrival from the bathroom.

"What're you doing sticking it in there for?" Hannah can't stop laughing, she whispers this though in attempts to be discreet.

"That's what she said," Sam quickly blurts.

Hannah falls to the ground, half of it definitely was the beer but the other part of it was natural. Sam was actually funny. Once he got a few bottles in him granted but still…

They both are crying now. Hilarious.

The word "hilarious" vibrates in Hannah's head. She thinks it is her new favorite.


End file.
